Eddylines

crush terminology

"You've almost got it, just give it more ferry angle!"

Daszé replied with a stare that bordered on hateful.

"You're so close, kuvano, don't give up yet. One more try."

"Blugh."

It was true, though. Each pass brought him closer and closer to the wave, but he hadn't quite mastered it yet, and his arms were beginning to scream at him to choose a more sensible hobby.

That bothered him too.

He'd always taken his fitness for granted because he'd never known any alternative. The daily rigors of a living in a deciduous jungle wasteland beneath the watchful eyes of an ever-present winged predator had always kept him trim, but now?

He sighed, glancing down at the first hint of a belly protruding through the sprayskirt tunnel.

Blugh, indeed.

"Alright, I'm gonna try again."

"Fuck yeah. You got this. Just up, sideways, and over, and this time, when you get on the wave, just relax."

"You make it sound so easy."

Marek grinned. "It IS easy, once you let the water do the work for you." Just to rub it in, he paddled out, jet-ferried across, and then punched it up into the trough and began to surf, rotating and carving effortlessly until another parade of rafts forced him out into the lower eddy.

"Ch'tavo'nyaaa," Daszé complained to himself as the last one passed. Here goes.

With the nose pointed ahead of the wavetrain, he dug deep, muscles straining and teeth gritted as the little boat pushed against the flow.  Getting on the wave from the edge was a nightmare, but he wasn't giving up, not this-

Easily.

He had overpowered the crest, and now he was flying.

The smooth slope of the wave in front of him passed under the nose of the boat like a sheet of blown glass, filled with creases and traveling patterns that glimmered in the sunlight as he gently applied his paddle to the right, then left. It was so smooth, so perfect, like a fresh-paved road, yet reactive and alive and sensitive to every movement as he began to slide down the face into the trough.

It was a game of physics, and somehow, having finally stepped onto the field, he intrinsically knew how to play.

He leaned back, then lifted his knees, bringing up the nose as the water pushed him back up the face. When he had found equilibrium, he shifted his weight back and forth, his turns growing sharper and more courageous as he scrolled and skimmed along the crest. The ride only seemed to get better and better, and then a green flash caught his eye as Marek heaved himself up and over to join him.

They both grinned at each other, then settled into a steady rhythm, traveling without moving for many long, wonderful seconds until their boats bumped and flushed them both off the wave with a splash and a mutual cackle of pure joy. Daszé's muscles shook as a smile blazed across his face, and Marek tackled him as their boats drifted together and down the river toward a lunch break beyond the Bridge to Nowhere.